Through the remainder of the month nothing of special interest occurred. The same daily routine of business. Through order of Quartermaster Thayer, the quartermaster and commissary sergeants formed a mess by themselves. Christmas lost my pocketbook containing upwards of five dollars.
Sunday, December 25, 2011
Christmas.
Dec. 26. Christmas went off very pleasantly and apparently to the satisfaction of all. Drills were suspended and all went in for a good time. The Irishmen had their Christmas box, the Germans their song and lager, while ball playing and other athletic sports used up the day, and music and dancing were the order of the evening. Santa Claus came with a Christmas dinner for a few, but more of us he passed by; however, I think the old gentleman has got a store for us somewhere on the way.
Our camp was visited by a number of ladies and gentlemen from the city, who were guests at headquarters, Chaplain James doing the polite, and entertaining them as best he could. No farther south than this, I was surprised to hear the chaplain tell of the ignorance of these people in regard to northern people and their institutions. One lady, noticing a box of letters in the chaplain’s tent, said she thought he must have a very large correspondence-to have so many letters. He told her those were soldiers’ letters going home to their friends. “Why,” she asked, “are there many of your soldiers who can write?” He informed her that there were not a half dozen men in the regiment but could read and write. He told her that free schools were an institution at the north. No man was so poor but he could educate his children, and the man who neglected their education was regarded as little better than the brutes. The lady appeared quite astonished and said she thought our free schools were only for the rich.
Christmas Day. Had a kind note from Mrs. Brown begging us to come to dinner. Low-spirited; did not go.
Camp Union, Christmas morning, 1861.
Dearest: — A merry Christmas to you and the little stranger (I suppose he is a stranger to you no longer) —and to all at home. At this home-happiness season, I think of you constantly.
. . . Oh the boys, how they must enjoy Uncle Joe and the presents! You will see they get some from “Uncle Papa” too.
A Dr. Hayes is here as brigade surgeon. Scarcely any sick in our regiment, so Dr. Joe can feel easy about his absence.
Beautiful weather again. Only one bad day. The rest of the Thirtieth has come up. It is now the strongest regiment here. This half is better stuff too and had some service.
Captain Zimmerman takes this. I sent a chair and five hundred dollars, by Captain Sperry. Let Joe tell me what money you have received from me. It is all right, I suppose, but I would like to know. . . .
Affectionately, darling,
Mrs. Hayes.
R.
Wednesday, 25th—This is a beautiful day, the snow having nearly all disappeared. The boys had a fine time today, this being our first Christmas experience in the army. There was no roast turkey with cranberry sauce and we all missed mother’s mince pies, cake and doughnuts. But we bought some pies and cakes of the citizens here, which with our regular army rations made a good dinner and something like a square meal. In the evening some of us boys went to the tavern to get our suppers, costing twenty-five cents apiece, and we had hot biscuit and honey in the bargain.
December 25th.—Lord Lyons, who had invited the English in Washington to dinner, gave a small quiet entertainment, from which he retired early.
WEDNESDAY 25
This has been “Christmas day” and a very pleasant day, not cold enough to freeze, but the air clear and braceing. I have spent the day at home fixing up things and did not go out till evening when I spent a couple of hours at Chas room with Mr Copersmith, Mis Wells and Chas & Sallie. It has been quite a noisey day about the house. Our three boys and the Two Lincoln boys have been very busy fireing off Crackers & Pistols. Willie & Thomas Lincoln staid to Dinner at 4 o’clock. Julia has been practiceing some with her pistol.
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The three diary manuscript volumes, Washington during the Civil War: The Diary of Horatio Nelson Taft, 1861-1865, are available online at The Library of Congress.
DECEMBER 25TH.—Mr. Ely, the Yankee member of Congress, who has been in confinement here since the battle of Manassas, has been exchanged for Mr. Faulkner, late Minister to France, who was captured on his return from Europe. Mr. Ely smiled at the brown paper on which I had written his passport. I told him it was Southern manufacture, and although at present in a crude condition, it was in the process of improvement, and that “necessity was the mother of invention.” The necessity imposed on us by the blockade would ultimately redound to our advantage, and might injure the country inflicting it by diminishing its own products. He smiled again, and said he had no doubt we should rise to the dignity of white paper.
Eliza’s Journal:
Christmas Day we spent with Joseph again in camp, going round by Alexandria to pick up Chaplain Hopkins and take him with us. We had taken some goodies and little traps with us for the men in the hospitals in Alexandria and were glad to find the nice arrangements that had already been made by Madame M. She had got Col. Davies to detail some of the 16th men to bring her Christmas greens, and had dressed all the wards with festoons and garlands, little flags, mottoes, etc., besides arranging for a grand Christmas dinner for her “boys.”
The Mansion House Hospital too was resplendent with bright tissue papers and evergreens and Dr. Sheldon showed us with great pride his kitchen and store-room arrangements, which are excellent in every respect. Fifty roast turkeys were preparing for the Christmas feast, sixteen large loaf-cakes iced to perfection and decorated with the most approved filigree work, pies without number, cream puffs, cranberry sauce, puddings of all sorts, etc., etc.—altogether the most Christmas-like scene we have looked upon, and all arranged with the greatest order and cleanliness.
Among the little things we took out were Mother’s and Jane’s socks, which we gave to men likely to go back soon to their regiments. The only boy without mittens got Mrs. Smith’s.
After our own camp dinner, at which the Colonel and the Doctor joined us, we sat round the last and best chimney yet built, and talked about old times five or six months ago, which now seem like so many years. J. says his Christmas Eve was dreary enough in his tent, and they all agreed that our coming was the only thing that prevented their Christmas Day from being so too.
December 25th, 1861.—Christmas night! No festive gathering tonight. We did not have a Christmas tree. Mattie and Eddie hung up their stockings but they had so many things they might better have hung up a two bushel sack. I found a number of gifts on the lightstand beside my bed, when I awoke this morning. The grown folks had presents, too, but somehow the flavor of Christmas was not there. The servants and all the hands on the plantation came as usual and Father had fixed for them, just, as is always done. He says they are just children and must have their pleasure the same as ever.
They shouted, “Crismus gif,” they sang and danced, they had the “Sweetened Dram.” Gifts were not lacking, good wishes were spoken just the same but, was it in my imagination, or was there really a difference?
Uncle William and Aunt Mary came and brought the children but Uncle Richard and Aunt Nancy did not come—their sorrow was too fresh and keen. Cousin Rob came and of course Cousin William and Cousin Sarah came but we missed the others. Aunt Sue is sick and that, too, cast a gloom over the day. Sister Mag had a letter this morning from Brother Amos. She had not heard for some time and this was written somewhat after the fashion of my diary. Of course he wrote a lot of her and Eddie, with messages for the rest of us. He also told her why the letter was so long delayed. The snow is deep there now as the Howell Guards are stationed at Evansport, on the Potomac and they cannot mail a letter every day. He thinks it is funny that they enlisted first as a Cavalry company, then they were Infantry and now they are serving as Artillery, manning a battery of big guns.
He wrote of many of the Tallahassee boys; John Day Perkins, he says, is the very quietest man in camp; he rarely makes a remark of any kind. He says the battery has sunk several small craft and recently the battleship Pennsylvania went down. When they were first stationed there Captain Parkhill tested the boys to see which were the best marksmen. He found he had enough skilled men to fire the guns but the very best marksman in the company proved to be Nick Eppes, a stripling of seventeen, as pretty as a girl and looks like one, too. He was placed in command of the biggest gun in the battery and, when the Pennsylvania was sighted, few of the guns struck her except the shots from the big guns, which went to the mark every time. The Pennsylvania sank and still lies beneath the waters of the Potomac. Talking it over afterward, John Day surprised them all by remarking, “Nick didn’t shoot all those turkeys for nothing.” The company cheered and clapped so enthusiastically that he was encouraged to speak again, “I had rather be at home shooting turkeys than here at Evansport shooting Yankees.” The applause was louder than ever and they all voiced John Day’s sentiments. Brother Amos says Dick Parkhill is as gay and full of fun as ever; he makes love to every girl he meets, does it, “to keep his hand in.”
Frank Papy is low-spirited and almost sick. Brother Amos is coming home in March to stay three weeks and Sister Mag can hardly wait. We will all be delighted to see him. He is the most hopeful person I ever met; “the war will be over in thirty days” “sixty days”—”ninety days” —I do not know what comes next but I do know he is a very pleasant person to talk to—you feel so cheered up. He wrote, too, that the War Department has ordered all independent companies to be merged into the different regiments. The Howell Guards will enter the 2nd Florida Regiment in General Perry’s command.
